Calibri
by Eiri Lain
Summary: Mollcroft. Several encounters with a certain shy pathologist peaks Mycroft's interest. Who really is this Molly Hooper and why is she so close to his brother? Mycroft is determined to find out, but would their interactions put Molly at risk? What happens when she goes missing, and Sherlock discovers that Mycroft and Molly have grown to know each other closely and all too well?
1. Chapter One

CALIBRI

A MOLLY & MYCROFT (MOLLCROFT) FANFICTION

BY

EIRI LAIN

SYNOPIS: Several encounters with a certain shy pathologist peaks Mycroft's interest. Who really is this Molly Hooper and why is she so close to his brother? Mycroft is determined to find out, but would their interactions put Molly at risk? What happens when she goes missing, and Sherlock discovers that Mycroft and Molly have grown to know each other closely and all too well?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read and review. I am new to fanfiction, and I write for enjoyment and just to get crazy plot bunnies out of my head.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC's SHERLOCK or its characters. I am a humble fan showing my appreciation.

CHAPTER ONE: MERRY CHRISTMAS

She already knew deep down that it was going to be a disaster from the moment she took off her coat and he glanced at her fleetingly. Everyone noticed her blatant presentation of a 'done-up' Molly, except him. He didn't seem to notice a difference at all. He looked at her like the same Molly at the morgue, wearing her khakis, oversized sweaters and loafers—

_same 'ol Molly, unattractive Molly, not-girlfriend-quality Molly, un-seductive Molly, 'just plain Molly'. _

She felt horribly ridiculous and embarrassed that she wanted to disappear. She wanted to rewind time to decline the invitation to the Christmas party with some excuse either related to her work, cat, or 'other friends'. But time only moved forward, and there she stood with the consequences of her actions.

She regretted deciding to wear the black dress, the bow in her hair, and the red lipstick. She assumed everyone would be dress in dresses, heals, and ties, but then again she was never invited to many holiday social gatherings outside of those that took place at work to begin with. She came in way over dressed; lesson learned.

She wanted him to notice her, but instead John and Lestrade took note and complemented her… but not Sherlock. _Never Sherlock._

She never felt as awkward and naked as she did, as when Sherlock berated her for her dress, her lip color, her breasts. She hoped he would enjoy his present, but instead saw and witness with horror as he brushed her off with a simple 'sorry' and kiss to the cheek before tending off the party to attend to better things. Somehow she felt robbed, and discarded; exposed and ridiculous.

"You look very lovely, Molly, dear."

She heard the compliments as she tried to be more cheerful and appear unfazed; yet found difficulty in doing so.

Sherlock's hurtful words echoed and scarred her; haunted her, more so than his fleeting shameless peck of a kiss of apology. And although he never apologized—and such a task from him was considered a feet—somehow something inside of her—her attraction towards him wilted.

Molly barely finished her drink when she bid goodbye. Lestrade offered to walk her to her car—a gentleman that he was—and she was sure he would talk to her about how Sherlock was a jerk or just "being Sherlock"—but she was tired and didn't want to hear them. She smiled at him and shook her head 'no' and was the first to leave the Christmas party in 221B.

Every step she took down the stairs brought on with it a clarity that she never felt before.

Molly found herself sitting in her parked car, quiet for a moment as she watch Lestrade retreat up the stairs to the party. She felt a pain in her chest and knew it was the hurt. Did she think the night would be anything but what it was? She would have been delusional or dreaming if somehow the outcome of the night was any different.

She squared her shoulders and steadied herself, her lips pursed as she tried to prevent them from quivering, as she held the tears that threatened to imitate. It was Christmas Eve, and for Molly she was going to spend it alone again.

The moment Molly stepped into her apartment she was greeted by her cat Toby. 'At least someone is eager to see me," she couldn't help but think bitterly. She watched as Toby rubbed her face gently on the bottom of her black heels; she kneels down and pets her companion.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Toby."

She was about to get up and take her coat when all of a sudden her phone began to ring. No one ever called her during this time, especially in the Holiday's unless it was an emergency. Her heart beat briefly—for a moment wondering if it could be a family member or Sherlock (why she had that thought—she felt like a traitor to her hurt feelings). The sound of the ringing startled Toby and she scattered away to the far corner of the apartment and disappeared from sight.

Molly stood up and picked through her purse.

The phone rang again.

She finally picked it up; having forgotten to look at the name on the screen.

"Molly Hooper speaking."

Her voice as steady as she tried her best to make.

"Oh, Molly, I hope you're not busy—we got a bit of an emergency here".

She mentally kicked herself for not reading the caller ID before responding. Of course, it was her work calling her.

Molly let out a breath she had forgotten she was holding.

"I'm… not busy; just got home from a party."

_Sure, Molly, make it sound like you actually have a life._

"Uhm, we need you here tonight," Stewart, her boss sounded unsettled, and he seemed urgent, "It's about a body of a woman found, we need your expertise to look at the body—cause of death—"

"Where's Daniel? Isn't he working tonight?"

Her question was unnecessary as she knew the answer. She would be going to work. She just wanted to sound as if she cared at all, and that she sounded like she had plans that were being interrupted.

She laughed inwardly at herself. She never had plans outside of work and staying at home with her cat, and she was certain her boss knew this all too well along with everyone else.

"Daniel is here, but you're requested; it's very important."

Molly furrowed, "Requested? By whom? Stewart is there something you're not telling me?"

Stewart sighed, "Listen, we have government officials here and I think this woman's body is a serious case. The gentleman here says you come highly requested. Get here. "

"I…I'll be there, Stewart, don't worry!"

Molly wondered what kind of situation would warrant an important autopsy, where she was specifically requested. She didn't know if she should be scared and worried. She felt neither. She was curious as to what she'd find, and wouldn't be surprise is Sherlock had some part in all of it.

"Give me about half an hour." Molly began to pull her coat off, "I have to change, get out of this ridiculous clothing—"

Stewart cut her off.

"They have a car waiting for you outside—"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Molly rushed to her window and looked out her door. She noticed a black car parked in the front of her building, a driver all in black stood outside of it waiting near the passenger door.

"Listen, Molly, do us a favor and get your butt in there. I just want this to get done with so we can enjoy our Holiday. Consider this three times pay during the Holiday."

"Government officials, you say?"

"Yes!" Stewart paused and Molly could hear a gentleman's voice behind him saying something she could not distinguish. "They'll take you to Barts, I'm here already. No time for you to change. Just go and I'll see you here."

The phone line clicked disconnected.

Without a second thought, Molly left her apartment. She had her spare clothes at her work closet. _I can change there right away,_ she thought.

She went down the steps and was greeted by the driver of the black car. He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and opened the door.

Molly is greeted by a gentleman seated on the other side of the passenger seat. Someone she's never met but who appeared to know her all too well, and seemed very important. Words escape her, and for a brief moment she stands outside the door simply looking at him questioningly.

'_What the hell have I gotten myself into_,' she thought as her gaze is met by steeling grey eyes.

"Please do get inside, Ms. Hooper. We shall talk about exactly what it is your task will be."

"And you are?" Molly asked; a concern in her voice as she feels uneasy about the situation, and yet curious in the same. She needed to know who this man was before she would freely get inside.

"Mycroft Holmes," he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh."

"Please do get inside. We have matters of grave importance to tend to."

TBC

Please R & R

08/24/14


	2. Chapter Two

CALIBRI

A MOLLY & MYCROFT (MOLLCROFT) FANFICTION

BY

EIRI LAIN

CHAPTER 2: THE OTHER HOLMES

Never in her life did Molly expect that: 1) Sherlock had an older brother, 2) she would meet him face-to-face, and 3) said brother would be some sort of government official.

She was in close proximity to a man who she never imagined she would ever meet. He sat across from her in the cabin, his umbrella resting next to him and a brown folder which caught her attention immediately. She watched as he lifted a dark brown folder with 'CONFIDENTIAL' and the words 'The Woman' imprinted on it and opened it. He then began to speak as she flipped through the documents in the file.

She listened as he began to debrief her about the woman whose body she would be doing an autopsy on. His voice maintained a businesslike and matter-of-fact tone, as if their very predicament was simply a normal everyday occurance.

Molly made a conscious decision not to meet his gaze, and looked outside the window as their car drove and his voice continued. The streets appeared barren except when an occasional lone vagrant came into view and shuffled into an alleyway in an inebriated state. So strongly did Molly felt she determined to appear unaffected by Mycroft's presence, that she even forced herself to count how many traffic lights they passed and noted how every light appeared to magically turn green as their vehicle approached it.

She tried to focus on anything except him studying her intently as he spoke, or that he somehow made her feel flustered. If he was a brother of Sherlock, she was sure he had the same crazy ability to 'deduce' her and leave her exposed already even without saying a single word. The thought made Molly uneasy, unsettled, and at the same time curious at about the whole situation.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she took a moment to realize he had stopped speaking. She hadn't been fully listening. Had he asked her a question that she was to answer? Did he realize that she wasn't fully listening at all?

It felt like a long amount of silence, yet she knew only a minute passed. She felt that Mycroft expected her to say something, to ask multiple questions, or to acknowledge whatever he had presented to her. She didn't want to sound ruffled, or daft.

Molly rummaged her brain for snippets of what he said about 'The Woman' that she caught on to. She heard him discuss how the woman in question was a Dominatrix, her murderers disfigured her body, and how there was an issue with identifying her. Molly also was sure he mentioned "national security" multiple times in his speech.

She forced herself to meet his watchful eyes and gathered herself.

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," was all she said.

She accepted whatever it was that they asked of her, after all she had nothing else to do that night. After the debacle of the Christmas party, she was willing to accept anything to get rid of the horrible embarrassment she had felt. Also, she had experienced far more odd situations in her years of helping Sherlock and John with their investigations. What would one 'The Woman' do to her? What would an encounter with the other Holmes do to her, too?

"I appreciate you agreeing to aid with this investigation."

He closed the file, as he studied her, an iced and unreadable expression on his face. Molly looked at the file he set next to him. Who was this 'Woman' and what had she done to lead the British government to schedule a private and immediate autopsy? Why was she even asked to take part in it?

Molly met Mycroft's gaze again and stopped her hands from fidgeting on her lap. She cleared her throat, and straightened her back ever so slightly to force herself to gather any sort of composure and confidence before she spoke.

"Why me?" She asked, "Any pathologist would be able to help you with this autopsy."

He crossed his arms over his chest, a look of assessment in place.

"Well you see, let's just say that I am aware of your intense involvement with my brother and his cases, and I do not doubt that your skill and expertise is one that is superior from others."

"All because Sherlock trusts me with his investigations?" Molly shook her head. _How ridiculous for that to be the case! _Sherlock never made a compliment on her abilities as a pathologist. Had he mentioned her to his older brother? Somehow Molly doubted this.

"Yes. And my brother is very peculiar with the people he acquaints with." Mycroft's voice was concise, steely and with a purpose. "However, this matter is not one of Sherlock's investigations. It is a matter of the government, and one that requires kid gloves and the assistance of a person that Sherlock is acquainted with."

_Acquainted with?_ She thought of that word 'acquainted' all too well and realized that it summed up her relationship with Sherlock all together. They were not friends, only acquaintances and nothing more. She stopped herself from delving into her heartache.

"You mentioned it is a body of a dominatrix." Molly didn't want to know how Sherlock knew this woman and how they were acquainted in any way.

"Yes," Mycroft cleared his throat, "And we will need your help in finding out the cause of death. Everything you'll need to know is within this file."

He uncrossed his arms, picked up the file next to him and handed it to her. Molly accepted the folder from his outstretched hands, a myriad of questions coursed through her.

She flipped to the first page; a picture of a beautiful mysterious woman met her curious eyes and atop the page marked "Top Most Wanted"… She read: espionage, terrorist assistance, murder, assassination…

Molly closed the folder immediately and glared at Mycroft.

"I'm just a pathologist!" She stops herself from throwing the folder back to him. "I…I don't think I need to know all these other information about 'The Woman'."

"Yes, you are a pathologist, and someone, I'm sure, I can trust with this."

"I'll do the autopsy, but I don't need this other information." She doesn't dare open the file again.

"You're wrong in that, Ms. Hooper—"

"Molly." She corrects him before she could stop herself.

"Molly, you will need that information to better assist in identifying this body. You will see once you see the body that every detail of 'The Woman' will only open your eyes in the predicament in which she found herself, and what triggered her murder."

"I feel like you're not telling me everything," she took a deep breath, amazed at finding her voice, and wondered if her fear of uncertainty and the situation, as well as the horrible end to a Christmas party and the few drinks she took made her more brazen.

"I only show and diclose what is needed and for your best interest."

"I don't know you, I don't know what it is you really do," she made sure he noticed her lingering gaze in observance. "Mycroft, I've never heard of Sherlock speak about you, and I would ….I would appreciate not being a part of any of this now that I think of it." She changed her mind.

Mycroft did not seem fazed. He simply looked her in the eyes, the corner of his lips twisted upward, "I wouldn't be surprise, as my brother does have his peculiarities… however, your assistance is required by the British Government."

She was quiet for a moment, as she considered the situation and what happened. "In this case, I don't have a choice."

"Clearly, not at all."

As if in perfect timing, their car pulled directly in front of Bart's.

Molly gulped down her nervousness down.

_Well, at least you're not alone with Toby this Christmas. _She thought sarcastically as the door was opened and she and Mycroft stepped out.

TBC

Please R&R

Eiri Lain

08/25/14


	3. Chapter Three

CALIBRI

A MOLLY & MYCROFT (MOLLCROFT) FANFICTION

BY

EIRI LAIN

CHAPTER 3: AGREEMENT

_This must sound crazy, but I find peace when I'm doing an autopsy. Everything and everyone fades and disappear because at the very moment that my scalpel touches the skin of my cadaver all there is that exist is the importance of control, of cautiousness, and a curiosity that is so powerful that I cannot stop until I've found it. _

_There is just the still quietness, as I hear only the steady breathing of myself and the feel the pulse of my own heart. Doing this has always made me cherish the reality that I am alive. I, Molly Hooper, is alive, when just as simply as this person before me, this woman, died in some untimely death, I somehow managed to remain the victor by being the one that's breathing, moving, living. Maybe it takes this craziness to do this job, or to do anything like this. _

_What difference would it be if I were to do autopsies at St. Bart's or anywhere else? In every sense of the word, I do enjoy what I do, I've done so for eight years. What difference would it be if it were for Bart's or the government, or whatever underground thing I've agreed to do? It's a job, plain and simply, and I'm crazy enough to do a task that anyone else that's normal wouldn't be caught doing... So, I think I made the right decision, right?_

_This is why I have chosen to-_

Molly stopped typing, highlighted the passage she was about to post on her private blog and pressed "Delete". She closed her laptop shut, set it on the dining table next to her empty bottle of wine.

It was one hell of a night, and she wasn't sure what truly transpired or what the following days would bring. All she knew for sure was that she somehow made an agreement with Sherlock's brother that she felt may not have been such a brilliant idea.

She walked to her room and flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling above her in the darkness. She replayed their conversation in her head:

"_I would like for you to work for me."_

_He says this matter-of-fact as they watched Sherlock disappear down the hall way after identifying the body of The Woman._

"_To do what, exactly?"_

"_Similar autopsies and research; ones that must be done in secret and undisclosed to the public."_

"_I...I already have a job here at St. Bart's, thank you." _

_She had tried to sound the lease bit unsettled at the prospect of working with Mycroft or anything so closely related to the government. She had a feeling it was a lot more than standard government related jobs._

"_You would still work here at Bart's. That fact cannot change."_

"_So what would?"_

"_On occasion-I cannot say how often-I would require your expertise—much like my brother's request of you—regarding certain matters. It will be in the strictest confidentiality, and all required autopsy or related research will be done in a private establishment upon which, if needed, we would send you to."_

"_If I say 'no'?"_

"_That would not be the best of ideas, as I'm sure you've worked very hard to keep your tenure here at St. Bartholomew's."_

_She was certain that was a threat. His eyes remain ever so focus on her own, his lips pursed in all seriousness. He was certainly not someone to mess with, she was sure of this._

"_You will be compensated for your work, and I'll make sure to have my assistant relay further information to you on Tuesday."_

_She simply stared at him in shock, not certain in what way to respond, and she watched him disappear out the doors of her lab._

"What have I gotten myself into?"

Somehow the solace of sleep never came. In her dreams Molly only dreamt of The Woman, Sherlock and the brother whom she would never want to make her enemy and whom she wasn't so certain she wanted to make her ally either.

TBC

9/21/14

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A/N: This fic will travel back and forth through time and also change voices (i.e. it may be told in Molly or Mycroft's perspective). Thank you so much for the review! I've been studying for exams so I finally got a chance to get to this! –E.L.


	4. Chapter Four

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Hi, guys! This is a pretty short chapter, but I posted it just so you all know I'm still alive (lol). I'm editing the remainder and should have 2 LONG (5K-8K words each) chapters by next week. The next chapters will focus on the whole cutting-up The Woman and also Sherlock's reaction to identifying the body and also in-depth on exactly WHAT it is that Molly really agreed to.

Also, while you're at it:

Please check out my fic " **'Round Midnight' **"- I re-edited it (fixed a FEW issues) and also included the M-rated scenes between Molly/Mycroft. Let me know what you think. It's a COMPLETED Mollcroft fic—tons of sexy goodness to hold you over.;)

'Till next time

- Eiri

CHAPTER 4: THE OTHER WOMAN

(A/N: Molly prepares to do the autopsy)

"Molly! Thank God you came!" Stewart greeted her with a brief hug before pulling her towards the autopsy room where the known body lay. He brushed off her feeling of unsettledness and mentally adjusted herself to her work and already began to focus. There was a certain mindset that she could easily move herself into, one of numbness and a calm clarity that allowed her to handle dead bodies and allow them to speak to her through her findings.

Mycroft watched as Molly assured Stewart that he was not needed for his autopsy. The gentlemen nodded and stood aside as he watched Molly walk closer to the body, walking around it, until the white cloth was removed from the body. Molly was so enraptured by the body, that everyone's presence began to disappear from her as she started to focus intently on her subject.

"Your coat, Molly?" His voice pierced the silence of the room as he stood behind her.

She appeared surprised by his proximity behind her, as she had already been lost in thought on preparing the autopsy. A quick smile and a brief nod allowed Mycroft to place his hands on her shoulder and assist her in removing her heavy knee-length coat. He watched as she stepped off the coat, and revealed a tight fitting black dress which she had apparently worn to a party. '_Sherlock's Christmas party, no doubt_,' he thought surprisingly.

He expected her to blush in embarrassment at how out of place her attire made her appear before them, but instead she seemed not to take heed or care of it at all. She was focused. There Molly stood in a black fitted dress, high heels, and her hair in her messy ponytail overlooking the body of a dead woman with such confidence and strong concentration. He never saw such a sight before.

His green eyes examined her from top to bottom, finding a curiosity spark within him about this woman whom his brother trusted so strongly. At first glance, she did not look at all like a competent forensic pathologist, but simply a quiet and mousy lab aid destined to do the workings of a well educated and tenured superior.

This Molly in front of him showed no signs of lacking competence in her job; he saw that in a way she seemed so engrossed in her tasks that if one was not as perceptive as he, they wouldn't know that she appeared to actually relish in the task at hand and enjoy it. Although she had yet to touch the naked body of The Woman before her, he could tell through her intent, calculating gaze that she was already making a deduction herself about the body.

Interesting, he thought, as he watch her shift in her heels as she slowly walk around the body, pearing closer to observe certain clues and signs that perhaps was not so blatantly visible or obvious to the untrained eye. She peered closer to the bloodied bashed-in face of the body, not even cringing at the sight, her face mere inches away from what would have been the eyes and nose of the dominatrix.

A simple "Hmm" of thought came from her lips as she straightened herself again and began to walk around the body again to peer at the bruises on the body's hands.

A cough broke the silence, and both Molly and Mycroft gave their attention to Stewart, who stood uncomfortably on the corner. He seemed desperate to leave and appeared to very much want to return home to his family.

Stewart looked between both of them and spoke, "I'm guessing you won't be needing me anymore?" He seemed to ask either of them.

Molly looked at Mycroft questioningly, uncertain of the answer.

"Your service won't be needed, Mr. McCarthy. You may leave."

Stewart seemed pleased, and looked at Molly and back at Mycroft again. "Are you sure, Mr. Holmes?" It was evident, Stewart was simply trying to sound courteous.

"I will only need Dr. Hooper's assistance."

Molly raised her left hand and nervously brushed strands of hair behind her ear, as she watched Stewart bid goodbye left the room. Her action gathered Mycroft's attention—she was back to the present, her train of thought and focus on the cadaver broken, and she appeared a little unsettled again. He noted her nervousness. He was certain she realized his presence again and the magnitude of her current predicament. She was now left alone with Mycroft.

He watched as she moved away from the cadaver and headed towards a metal table with supplies for preparation. She doesn't say a word to him, but simply busied herself gathering her needed equipment for the autopsy. He watched her carefully. He could tell that she was certainly determined not to appear bothered by his presence. That garnered much respect from him—a woman who wanted to show with all her might that Ice Man had no impact on her. It was futile, he already witnessed her unease and panic state when he initially picked her up.

He wonders how long she would remain quiet, and better yet when would she realize that she was still dressed in her form fitted black dress and black heels. Mycroft decided, he wanted to get a rise from her, to get her attention...anything aside from the pregnant awkward silence that filled the room.

"Perhaps I can gather you a lab coat?" He asks her as he walks towards her and stands on the opposite side of the metal table of supplies she's prepared.

Molly looked up from her task, an eyebrow raised in question, just before his words seemed to hit her. Realization dawned on her that she was still in her party clothes. She was so enraptured with the task and keeping her mind off of Mycroft's presence that she had completely forgotten to change.

A blush crept to her cheeks as she met his steady gaze.

"I um...I didn't have much time to change..." She looked down at her form fitted dress and shoes. She didn't realize that she had been walking in heels—her feet had grown so numb that walking in them seemed so easy and second nature at this point. In addition, her mind had been raging with thoughts on the dead body before her and the reasoning for the importance of such secretive night time autopsy. The idea of changing or searching for comfortable clothes or shoes had not dawned on her.

"Perhaps I can get my assistance to fetch you a more...comfortable...attire, Molly?" His eyes fluttered quickly at her—making her feel more self conscious. She saw the edges of his lips curve up slightly, as she straighted the front of her dress.

_'Is he making fun of me?' Molly thought, 'Is this amusing to him?' _She could not tell, but was certain to show him that she could take care of herself and did not need any additional accommodation. Molly was a professional, and no dress or heel can make her not do her job properly.

"I'm all right, thank you." She gathered herself to tell him directly, "If you excuse me, I am sure I have a change of clothes and shoes somewhere."

"By all means." He nods his head in acknowledgement as she hurriedly brushed passed him.

"I'll be right back," she said. He watched her retreat to back room.

When she returned the only apparent difference was the shoes she wore and the white lab coat that she put on which covered her short black dress. On her feet were orange Tom slip-on sneakers, a ridiculous clash to her outfit if it was not hidden beneath a lab coat. Mycroft's eyebrow is raised in amusement. She was truly a fascinating woman—stubborn, he was certain of, yet determined to show how little she needed from him.

TBC


End file.
